Mama Deb (mamadeb) wrote,
Mama Deb
mamadeb

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It's called Pakua. It's a form of martial arts - a lot of kicking and punching. A friend of mine convinced me to join her for a class today.

So, there I was. 200 lbs. Highly uncoordinated, no internalized way to tell left from right, and a sense of balance that has me unable to ride a bicycle and clutching bannisters while going down steep flights of stairs. And let's not even talk about stamina. And I'm wearing an old longsleeved tshirt and a pair of stretch pants. Pants I layer under skirts in really cold weather, or even wear to bed under a nightgown. I don't remember the last time I wore pants as pants in public. But Judith assures me that none of my lack of skills matters and it's a woman only class, of course, so I show up. And Master Katie seems glad to see me. Yes, Master Katie.

I don't know what's wrong with "Mistress", but okay.

I'm the first student there. She teaches me how to salute a flag (no bowing and no shrines. The whole thing is designed for religious Jews and on purpose - there are some mixed sex groups, but most are separate, with teachers of appropriate gender, and it is closed on Friday afternoons and Saturdays, but has Sunday sessions.) And then we start running around the room. I'm not a runner, and I'm just getting over my cold, so my breathing isn't great.

I kept up. I kept up with the laps, and the push-ups (okay, from my knees. I've never managed a full pushup) and the more laps and the crunches and then I started to slow down and I walked the last two laps around the dojo, but that was *fine*. That was *okay*.

I even kept up pretty well with a lot of the rest of the class - Master Katie (giggle) very gently modified the exercises for me so I could *do* them successfully - use the rear leg to kick, keep kicks low, do "splits" on my knees instead of my toes, things like that. I still felt uncoordinated and clumsy, but I could do them, or at least mostly do them.

So I signed up. Just once a week for now, but I even get a gi. Which I'm rather pleased about - I even went out and got more pants because, well, one pair isn't going to cut it.

And then I went to the dermatologist, where I go every six months. My skin isn't nearly as sensitive - I only take zyrtec every two or three days now - but we have other reasons for me to go. Namely, I get moles, and they're always growing or changing or bleeding. Today, he shaved off one that was an odd shape, one which my husband noticed had grown visibly. It's on my back. This means five days of dressing changes. He's very good at that. And I should get the biopsy results in a couple of days.

I'm not worried. This is my fifth one, and none have been cancerous.
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